


For Alice

by kxgfangirl



Series: Her name is Alice [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Attempting to have a decent parent & child relationship (Not Howard), Healing, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Still better than Howard, ex-assassin-former-lab-rat tries to raise a kid, okay?, she's trying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 05:02:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kxgfangirl/pseuds/kxgfangirl
Summary: Alice has learned to be grateful. She survived being an assassin's daughter in the early thirties. She survived being an assassin in the late thirties. She survived being a lab rat in the forties. She was told she would die in the fifties. She has learned to be thankful.These things-and persons- are what she considers to be gifts.The reminders of better times.





	For Alice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An oak chair rested in the corner of Alice’s reading room. It was old, -carved by Tony’s great-grandfather on his mother’s side- and it creaked when it rocked. But it was far from fragile. Alice knew from experience.

 

 

Alice rocked quietly in the nursery’s ancient rocking chair. She took comfort in the soft creak of of the chair’s movements as she cradled Anthony in her arms. He was fussy. Alice had already fed him, burped him, and changed his diaper. She smiled softly as Anthony’s eyes began to close. He made a quiet sound, effectively waking himself up. Her smile didn’t drupe a bit when his eye’s snapped open once more. She hummed a lullaby and continued to rock the little one.

 

Alice’s movements stuttered when Anthony wove his fingers into the hair that dangled past her shoulder. Her eyebrow scrunched in confusion when the baby tug. Her gaze moved to where a tiny fragile hand rested in her soft dark hair. She didn’t try to remove his hand. He wasn’t pulling. But she did keep close tabs on his fingers, making sure that the strands wrapped around his fingers didn’t cut off his circulation.

 

Anthony turned his wonderous gaze from her hair to the nursery. The room hadn’t changed a bit since he last scanned it, but he seemed to find a new thing to latch onto everytime. A sharp creak louder than the others pulled Anthony away from the blue-jacketed bear in his crib. He whimpered. His upperlip quivered.

“Oh, Anthony.” She cooed, her rocking slowed. “It’s okay. That was loud, wasn’t it?” She paused, as if waiting for response. Anthony only offered a soft whine in return before quieting again and finding something else to stare at.

 

Alice picked out a simple book from a small shelf in the corner. She only read a few lines to him before choosing to point out the animals a colors instead. She spoke in silly voices occasionally and laughed and smiled and played with Anthony. She froze when he smiled at her. Her mending heart cracked. That warm happy smile was too much like the one Howard used to show.

 

Anthony grew tired, and Alice sung a soft lullaby to him as she rocked. He slowly began to nod off to the gentle voice and the rhythmic creak of old wood. She smiled as he snuggled closer to her. The serum caused her body temperature to be higher than normal, making her a hit at naptime. After he fell asleep, Alice brushed her hair out of his reach. She continued to rock him, knowing that his sleep wasn’t deep enough for her to put him in his crib.

 

By the time Alice laid Anthony in his crib, it was past 5 A.M.. She sighed. She was supposed to wake Jarvis up to take her place hours ago. She decided, with another glance at the clock, that she’d let him rest.

 

_But that was nearly forty-seven years ago. Her baby-no, Tony- wasn’t a baby any more. Now, she had bigger problems than making sure that he grew up big and strong. Now, she had to make sure that he didn’t get himself killed while protecting the innocent while she attempted to avoid enemy fire._

_The hand-carved rocking chair rested in a well lit corner of Alice’s reading room. It was underused-in her opinion-, but not forgotten. During long sleepless nights, if she allowed herself some rest, she would wonder into the open room. She’d let her hand brush again the shelves filled with books, from ancient tomes to the newest fiction. She’d let her eyes fall to the worn, hand made blanket that hung off the back and the old cushion she had worn to the maximum level of comfort. She’d settle down with a nice book in a spot she had made her own, in a house she had let herself call home._

 


End file.
